


Last Night

by levisinner



Category: Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Youtube RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3936223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levisinner/pseuds/levisinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last night, you and Mark had gotten totally drunk. Now it’s time to deal with the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> i was hit by a sudden burst of inspiration at midnight so i’m sorry if this is a little messy xD i might write more to this idk

The first thing you realized when you woke up was that you were totally naked. 

Groaning, you peeled your eyes open. The light made your head hurt even worse than it already was. This wasn’t your room. Your room was covered in so many posters they had crept onto your ceiling; this ceiling was stark white. You always kept your blinds closed at nights, too, your room wasn’t this bright in the mornings. And you didn’t sleep naked. Something was up. 

You couldn’t muster the will to move, so you lay on top of the bed, chilly because of your nakedness, staring at the ceiling. Slowly, as you woke up more fully, you became aware of the fact that your entire body ached like hell. Especially your pussy. You’d kind of figured, um, something had happened last night, but you wanted to stay in denial until you remembered or were forced to face it. 

You were forced to face it sooner than you thought you’d have to when you heard a sleepy groan coming from beside you. He sounds an awful lot like Mark, you thought, amused. You finally found the strength to roll onto your side and view last night’s catch. 

Well, fuck. 

He was sleeping on his side but his face was buried in the pillow. Like you’d need to see his face to recognize him. The mess of untamable black hair, the broad shoulders and muscled chest, the scar running up the center of his stomach were enough for you. You’d fucking slept with your best friend. 

“Shit,” you said a little louder than you meant to as it hit you that you hooked up with Mark. That little extra volume cost you as Mark picked his head up from the pillow, eyes fluttering open. “Shit,” you repeated.

Mark, being the lucky bastard he was who never got hangovers and was always wide awake in the mornings, glanced at you and immediately realized what happened. “Shit,” he echoed with wide eyes.

You fell back onto your back on the bed, resuming your position staring at the ceiling, unwilling to face your bestie. You heard Mark sit up, but you refused to look. “I’m going to go and make breakfast,” he said quietly. You didn’t reply. 

You heard Mark get up, open his dresser, put on his clothes. You stayed frozen until an itch forced you to scratch your chin. You realized there was dried cum on your face. Fuck. How hard had you guys gone at it?

You weren’t going to lie — you’d been nursing a pretty fucking big crush on your roommate for, well, years. That crush was secondary to your friendship, however. Mark was the best friend you could ever ask for, and you couldn’t lose that because of the awkwardness of a rejected confession. Not to mention Mark was pretty busy and pretty happy being by himself. 

As Mark left, you finally willed yourself to sit up. You surveyed his bedroom with a hand on your head in attempt to quell your pounding headache. You noticed your clothes strewn haphazardly across the room. “Must’ve been a good fuckin’ night,” you muttered. You forced yourself to swing your legs over the side of the bed, the smooth wooden floor feeling cold against your bare feet. You gathered your garments and made your way to your own bedroom and bathroom. 

You showered and freshened up and got dressed before flopping back on your bed. Between waking up and this moment, you’d recollected a good deal of what had happened last night. You’d been out with friends, had gotten back home tipsy enough to have questionable judgement. You realized Mark was recording Drunk Minecraft that night, and you’d realized the concoction your roommate had cooked up to drink wasn’t half bad, so by the time the recording session was over, both you and Mark were totally wasted. Sometime after that, you two had decided to watch the first thing that came up on Netflix. It was…some romantic comedy, maybe? You didn’t remember. After that: well, things happened.

You had no idea what to think or feel. You guessed all of that depended on what Mark was thinking and feeling about it. ’Cause — y’know, if he was down with it, you totally were. Your crush, it was kind of. Um. Really, really big. But if Mark went more of the “let’s pretend this never happened” route, you’d be okay with that, too. His happiness was the most important thing. You’d just quietly deal with your heartbreak and never recover because you were practically completely in love with him at this point. Fun stuff!

You supposed you needed to go downstairs and deal with the awkwardness — or at least get some pain killers and water. You sighed, trying to steel yourself. It was just sex, you’d go and laugh about it and it’d be no big deal. What if Mark like, freaked the fuck out about it, though? No, he wouldn’t do that, he was the most rational person you knew. What if he just like, ignored the fact that it happened and spared you both the awkwardness and the chance to find out if your feelings were reciprocated? What if he was disgusted by it? What if he figured out your feelings and didn’t return them? What if he confessed his undying love for you and fucked you on the kitchen counter until you climaxed so many times your head stopped hurting? God, so many what ifs. Only one way to figure out which one was going to become reality, you decided, standing up. 

Mark was sitting on the couch slowly eating a bowl of cereal whilst checking his phone — he took like fifty years to eat breakfast, you swore to god, he always got so distracted by fuckin’ tumblr — so you got your own helping of Lucky Charms and plopped down next to him. 

“Morning,” you greeted him as he looked up at you. 

“G’d morning,” he replied. You ate in silence for a minute before he spoke again. “Sooooo, um…”

“Yeahhhh…”

“So, uh. God, I don’t know what to say, this is so awkward.”

“Um, we slept together.”

“That we did.”

“We were really drunk.”

“We definitely were.”

“Yup.”

You felt another awkward silence about to sit in when Mark blurted out, “how was it?”

“What?”

“The sex. How was it?”

You snorted. “Like hell I remember.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I don’t exactly remember much either. I mean like…the fact that we slept together. Us, y’know, together. How do you feel about the us fucking. How do I word.” Mark never got this flustered and it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at him, the big doof. “I’m…I’m pretty okay with it.”

“’Cause, um…I kind of like you. Like, really like you. A lot.”

As the words tumbled, clumsy and embarrassed, out of Mark’s mouth, you felt your heart explode. You were dead right now. You were like, 90% sure you were dead. You looked at him and cocked your head. A smirk played at the corners of your lips. “Y’know,” you said, trying to maintain a cool demeanor despite being literally dead, “I would do like, the cheesy romantic movie thing of jumping on you and kissing you right now, but cereal. Also head hurts. Everything hurts. So just pretend I just threw myself at you and we’re making out right now.”

If you weren’t already dead, the smile on Mark’s face would’ve definitely killed you.


End file.
